Finally
by CEA
Summary: A look inside Bill's head at the end of Season 3. Mostly introspective fluff/romance with a little side helping of drama. Adama/Roslin.


The door to the main gym area creaks loudly, but every part of his ship seems to be creaking these days. Bill sighs as he exits the sparring room, no longer even bothering to grimace at the scent that hits him a foot into the room. There are men and women about, some on one of the treadmills, most lifting weights of some kind. He heads toward the exit, intent on a long shower, and nods a greeting to those who glance at him.

He's barely taken five steps before he sees a color out of the corner of his eye. He knows that color better than any in the universe, and before he can help himself he's staring right at her. Her auburn hair, pulled back into a ponytail (he's never seen it that way before), her body clothed in a set of military tanks and some threadbare shorts, some old sneakers... but he has barely taken these in when he's mesmerized by the supple movement of her body. He expected her to be a power walker, maybe, but the woman in front of him clearly is a runner, and has done this many times. Her form is excellent, even in the hand-me-down clothing. He realizes, after far too long, that he's essentially ogling the President of the Twelve Colonies in front of members of his crew.

And then his body freezes, as it occurs to him that he can hardly believe cancer is once again eating away at that perfect body with that perfect form. His heart constricts; for a second he fears it might stop. The diagnosis is still new, still terrifying, still comes to him at odd hours. He's been such a fool.

He intends to move away, to head back to his quarters for that needed shower, but his body has other ideas, and he's moving towards her. As he nears, she sees him, and turns her head slightly to catch his eye. Her pale-green eyes are bright. Her fair skin is reddened from exertion, sweat shining along her neck and collarbone. He swallows hard as he comes to stand right next to her, waves of endorphins flowing off her heated skin.

"Admiral," Laura breathes, pressing the stop button on the machine.

"You don't have to stop for me," he says.

She quirks an eyebrow at him, smiling that small smile that belongs only to her. "Do you not want to talk?" she asks, panting slightly.

"I was watching you," he confesses. After that meeting in the Ward Room a few weeks earlier, he's not sure there's much point in hiding his attraction from her. "You look good," he adds.

Laura smiles, then, full-on, and he's amazed to realize that here, sweaty and red and wearing terrible clothing, he's more attracted to her than he's ever been. "Thanks," she says, blushing slightly. "I used to run in college."

"Really?" Bill asks.

"Don't sound so surprised," she says, stepping off the machine and accepting the towel he grabs for her. "I was pretty good. Came in 3rd in the All-Caprica meet my junior year. 100-meter dash."

"I'm impressed," he says, meaning it. There are so many things he doesn't know about her, still...

Laura just grins, sashaying over to her bag. _That's exactly what she did,_ he thinks. _She just sashayed in front of me_. He's smiling now, too, because a sashay is worth a thousand words. She pulls out a water bottle, and he can't help but stare as she tilts her head back and takes a long drink. Her back arches slightly, her eyes close...

He's had thousands of fantasies about this particular woman, starting practically when they first met, in every position and location imaginable. He remembers clearly the moment when he woke up in sick bay, when he visited Saul after nearly dying and asked about her. "Half the fleet thinks she's some frakking religious figure," Saul had groused. "'The Dying Leader' or some such bullshit."

"Dying?" Bill had asked, a surprising fear gripping his heart.

"Roslin's got cancer," Saul had explained. "Didn't believe it myself when I heard it, but Cottle confirmed it. It's terminal."

How a word like 'terminal' can make so many things clear. He'd buried the sudden onslaught of feeling deep: the feel of her in his arms on Colonial Day; the laugh he'd heard too few times; the legs he thought about far too often even then. He'd forced it all into anger, anger at her for putting him in that position, anger at her for not telling him she was dying, and anger at himself for letting her creep into his thoughts insidiously.

But then Dee had shaken him apart with a few well-placed words. Had he ever thanked her for that? He'd gone to Kobol. Laura had been soaking wet and he'd never seen anything more beautiful. The first time, her cancer had let him see that he was falling in love with her. This time, it laid clear exactly how little time they had left, how stupid they'd been for not acting on it. What had he said in the Ward Room those few weeks ago, when she'd been flirty and he'd been a total idiot? 'Responsibilities.' Frak responsibility. The woman he loved was dying, but not yet. Not today.

"Admiral," she says, and he realizes from the panic in her eyes and the silence of the room that he's been staring again, far longer than what would be appropriate.

"Madam President," he says, and steps closer. "Are you done?"

"I think so, yes," she says, looking at him curiously.

"Why don't you use the shower in my quarters?" he asks, and her eyes widen.

He can see her battling with herself. He knows how much she loves his shower; she's told him several times. "What about you?" she asks, her eyes traveling over his equally-sweaty body. He feels a swell of pride as a flush gathers on her cheeks and the part of her chest uncovered by the tanks, appreciation clear in her eyes.

"I have a couple hours off," he says, and her eyes meet his again. "I can wait."

The tension that always simmers around them is near boiling now. What exactly he has offered is unclear, but she knows that they've stepped up to that line yet again. He curses the disease for the uncertainty now in her eyes. The Laura he spoke to in the Ward Room would have said 'yes' in a heartbeat; she's so much more unsure now. But slowly, a glint comes back to those pale green eyes, and she raises her chin slightly. "Okay."

He picks up her bag without asking, shouldering it next to his, and they exit, ignoring the eyes that are certainly on them at this point. The walk to his quarters is a short one; their guards march ahead and behind them, and station themselves as usual. She nods at them as she enters ahead of him; Bill shoots them a sterner glance, the one that says, 'I'll airlock all of you if you say anything,' and they nod at him in understanding.

He hands her the bag inside the door, and she doesn't look at him at him before walking into the head. He watches her go, feeling conflicted. Should he follow? Nothing has been explicitly stated. He has no idea what to do, and he sighs, setting his own bag down on the desk.

He's too damned old to be feeling this conflicted over a woman. When was the last time he felt this way? When he realized he was in love with Carolanne, maybe, but that feeling seems so shallow and foolish next to his overwhelming appreciation for the woman currently in his bathroom. He hears the water turn on, and stares at the door with doubt.

Bill sits to slip his boots off, setting them by the hatch, and then pauses before moving slowly to the head's door. He opens it, steps inside. Laura's already in the shower; behind the noise of the water he can hear a person moving. He steps up to the curtain, a lump forming in his throat as he presses his fingers against the material. She's there, a foot away, her body under the hot spray, and the want, the _ache_ is so all-encompassing he finds it hard to breathe. It's not just desire for her body, though there is that, but a deep, full-body need to hold her, to make her laugh, to fall asleep with her and wake up with her, to give her a home she can come back to when all her responsibilities are too much and all she has strength for in this world is fighting the disease currently ravaging her body. That's all he wants, for her to fight with all her might. He can't stand the thought of losing her. He thinks it might kill him.

Then the curtain pulls back slightly. He looks up, guilty, to find her face peeking around it, her eyes glinting playfully. She knew he was here, he realizes, and she cocks her head slightly. "Are you waiting for an invitation, soldier?" she drawls, and then disappears again.

His tanks hit the ground before he finishes processing what she just said, followed by his sweatpants, boxers, and socks. Her clothes are folded up neatly on the toilet, her sneakers on top; his clothes are strewn all over the bathroom. He takes a deep breath, grasps the edge of the curtain nearest him, and steps in.

Her body is exactly what he's always imagined; miles of gorgeous leg, large breasts, ribs painfully prominent from disease and malnutrition, flat stomach... imperfect, but she's beautiful. There are some wrinkles, but for the most part she is age-defying, and he wonders, not for the first time, what the frak she could possibly see in him that makes her think he is worthy of her.

Her eyes are assessing him at the same time, dragging over his broad shoulders, large arms, darker skin, the slight paunch in his stomach from middle age covering firm muscle, his dog tags hanging over his chest. He's not traditionally handsome. He knows his face is a lot to take in, not the finely sculpted porcelain with laugh lines in front of him, but when she finally meets his eyes again there is no judgment there, just desire, and what he realizes with some shock must be her own insecurities.

He steps forward, gathering her into his arms under the warm spray. The press of naked flesh, for the first time, should be overwhelmingly arousing, but arousal is banished by the realization that she's _here_, she's real, and she wants this, too. He wraps one arm around her middle, one around her upper arms and back, and holds her as tightly as he can without hurting her. "So beautiful," he murmurs throatily into her temple, and she hums quietly in reply.

Laura tilts her head back, closes her eyes, and he can't help but kiss her. He's kissed her twice in his life; the first when she was dying originally, the second when they lay, stoned and silly, on the sandbags on New Caprica. This kiss is nothing like those. Though it starts off slow, for just a few seconds, he's done for the moment she licks his upper lip and opens her mouth. Their languid, almost platonic embrace changes quickly as he truly tastes her for the first time.

The shower, though, is too small for anything. It's been a long time, but he remembers that clearly enough. So he parts from her reluctantly, turning her around and grabbing a washcloth. She murmurs a protest, and he chuckles as he lathers the cloth up. "It'll be more comfortable in my rack," he explains, dropping a kiss to her shoulder as he begins to wash her.

She doesn't stop touching him, though. Even as he drags the cloth across her belly, her hands are mapping the strong thighs behind her. She tilts her head back, and he latches onto her neck, gaining an appreciative moan from her as he runs the cloth across her tempting breasts.

The sound is extraordinary, though he knows that's mostly because it's coming from _her_. He bends down, washing her legs, trying not to linger, though he very much wants to. The idea is to get her out of there, dry and into his rack as quickly as possible.

He begins to use the cloth on himself, but she stops him. "My turn," Laura says. "You can't have _all_ the fun, Admiral." He watches her face as she drags the cloth across his body, over his neck, down his chest. She spends probably more time than is necessary on his thighs and groin, and he grins at her confidently as she drops the cloth to stroke him once, twice. He grabs her hands, shaking as head as she makes to continue, kisses her harshly. "Not right now," he says, and she whimpers in frustration around his mouth.

"Bill," she says, but he shakes his head again, grabbing his shampoo and quickly lathering up her auburn hair. He directs her to the spray, and she rinses as he quickly washes his own hair. As soon as the last of the soap is gone, he turns the spray off, grabbing her arm.

He's fully hard now, though he doubts any man wouldn't be. He realizes he forgot to grab a towel, so he hands his to her and dries off with the damp cloth when she's done. He doesn't care much. His thoughts are rapidly descending into one particular objective.

Laura clearly agrees, moving out into his cabin, backwards. "Coming?" she lilts, smiling suggestively. He tosses the towel aside and follows, scooping her into his arms and meeting her mouth for a bruising kiss. She moans again, running her hands over his body, moving to grab his cock again. He catches her hands, pulling them away and holding tight, and she groans. He knows if he lets her do that, it'll all be over far too quickly.

He backs into the edge of his rack, and they try their hardest to avoid breaking the kiss as they crawl in. He moves on top of her easily, and she melts into the sheets, her legs falling open of their own accord. He pulls away to kiss her forehead, her cheek, suck on her collarbone and neck. Her eyes show so much trust and love that it takes his breath away.

He traces a hand down her face, cupping her cheek, breathing heavily. "Bill," she says then, a cloud forming across her face. "Are you sure? This will-it's a bad idea, and it will make everything so much harder..."

He knows what she means by_ everything_, and he rejects her implication, unable to dwell on it for a moment. And he can't agree with her anyway, that this is a bad idea. Maybe politically, yes, but the act itself, with her, is the best idea he's had in his lifetime. "Laura," he says, and he can hear the awe in his own voice as he searches her eyes. "Whether or not we do this, I'll still love you."

Her eyes flood immediately, and she turns her head away. He kisses her temple, her throat, her mouth. He knows she won't say it back. He knew before he said it, though a small, fragile part of him still hoped that maybe she would. But he knows, with her family, with Billy... he knew it was unlikely. And he accepted that a long time ago.

He fills his hands with her breasts, and she arches into him, murmuring his name as he caresses first the undersides. He files that away as a sensitive spot for her, before circling up to her nipples, hard and tight with desire. This time she whimpers, a glorious sound. He kisses down her neck, licks across the slope of her breast and then finally sucks her right nipple deep into his mouth.

"Oh, Gods, Bill," she says, threading her fingers through his hair. Bill is deeply happy that this part of her body is so responsive; he's met women before who looked almost bored as he did this, but not Laura. Her eyes are shut, her mouth opened slightly, her breaths coming in short little pants he can barely hear. He switches sides, laving her left breast, and remembers that this, _this_ is the one that is killing her. The thought is painful, difficult to believe, and he pays special attention this breast, running his tongue across the nipple in broad swipes. Some small, desperate part of him wants to believe that if he makes love to her deeply enough, if he pours every ounce of his love into her vessel through his lips, his teeth, tongue, hands, cock, then perhaps he can re-mould her, fasten her into a new, healthy body.

He trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down her sternum and to her navel, dipping his tongue inside. She giggles, loudly, so he does it again, and she swats him lightly on the back. "Bill," she giggles breathlessly, "_stop_ it."

He files _that_ delightful spot away, too, and continues down, settling into the cradle of her thighs. Her eyes are darker green now, open and warm as she looks down at him. He sinks his teeth into the flesh of her inner thigh, and she sucks in a sharp breath, eyes darkening further. He soothes the spot with his tongue, and moves slowly to the center.

He parts her lower lips with his thumbs, inhaling deeply. Frak, he's imagined this so many times, but the real thing... he reaches forward, sinking two fingers barely into her, and then sweeping them up to circle her clit slowly. She moans immediately, moving her body against his fingers. He watches her face as he does it again, the nearly-painful pleasure shadowing her features. "Gods, Bill, I'm already so close," she confesses, trembling slightly. He's not surprised. They've had, what, nearly 3 years of foreplay at this point? He's amazed he hasn't come like a drunk nugget just from the sight of her.

He finally penetrates her with his two fingers, sliding in as deeply as he can go and curling them on the way out. The guttural sound she makes, lower than he's ever heard, is as astonishing as the rest of her. He begins to thrust his fingers, slowly and then faster, adding a third as he leans in to finally swipe his tongue across the bundle of nerves at the top. Her left hand buries itself in his hair again, directing him to stay there, and he complies, sucking her clit into his mouth completely.

Laura shatters, her hot pussy clenching around his fingers. High, keening cries exit her mouth as her head thrashes back and forth. He watches her, sure he'll never forget this moment, and slowly brings her down. Her pussy continues to clench, slower and slower, as her breathing settles and her body relaxes again. Her eyes open, and when she sees him Laura scrunches her nose adorably, giggling again.

He wipes his hand and mouth on the bedclothes and then pulls himself up her body again, kissing her deeply. She wraps her arms around her neck and her legs around her waist, and it's all he can do to not thrust into her immediately. He pulls back, looks into her flushed face and bright eyes. Her hand closes around his cock, positioning him at her opening, and he pushes forward slowly. Laura's eyes flutter closed as he slowly penetrates her.

"Oh, frak, Laura," he groans, shutting his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose to try to control his traitorous body, but Gods, it's been so frakking long, and he's older than he used to be, and frak, it's _her_, of all the women in the Universe, _finally..._

When he's fully seated, he opens his eyes again, looking down into her beautiful face. When she meets his eyes, he begins to move, slowly. She moves with him, gripping him tightly with her legs, and she grasps his dog chains, pulling his face to hers for a kiss. "So good," she says, burying her face in his neck as their lips part.

"No," he says, stilling. "Laura, look at me."

She leans back, their eyes meet again, and he resumes his thrusts. He moves his arms up past her head for leverage, and begins to thrust harder, long, sure strokes that take him nearly out of her each time. He watches her eyelids flutter as she struggles to keep her eyes open, a flush traveling across the top of her chest and her cheekbones. "Oh, Gods..."

"No," he grouses, "just me."

She laughs, a laugh that turns into a moan as he thrusts faster. Her body arches against him, and stills, and he watches the bliss break out over her face once again as she shudders around him. The sensation pulls him along, and he finally breaks eye contact, barely remembering to hold his weight off her as he comes deep inside her.

The lethargy takes him almost immediately, and the next thing he is aware of is her soft kisses along his face, her quiet humming. He rolls off, pulling with him and into his arms as his softening cock slips out of her. He opens his eyes, looking at her. She smiles at him, happiness shining in her eyes as she winds her right arm around him, resting her head under his chin. He kisses her hair, and squints behind her, trying to see what time it is.

"Do you have to be back soon?" she murmurs.

"Yeah," he admits, sighing. "Rather stay here with you, though."

She hums again, and presses a kiss to his chest. "I'm glad we finally did this."

"Me, too," Bill agrees, closing his eyes for a few seconds more to enjoy the feel of her in his arms before he has to head back to CIC. "Have dinner with me tonight?" he asks.

"Okay."

"And... stay, afterwards?"

He feels Laura tense slightly, and tells himself not to push, hoping desperately that he won't have to. "Actually, Bill," she begins, then pauses. "Um..." _Um_? Has he ever heard her say _um_ before? "Dr. Cottle told me I should move to the _Galactica_. For treatments." His eyes open again, wide, as what she's saying slowly registers. "He says they'll take a lot out of me," she babbles. "I've been meaning to ask you anyway, and I suppose now is-"

"Stay here," he interrupts, trying to keep himself from sounding too excited. _It's not like she's moving here for kicks, Bill, she's sick._ "Stay here, with me, Laura," he repeats, tilting her head up with his fingers to look at her.

Laura swallows. There's a certain amount of fear in her eyes, and he's saddened but not surprised to see it there. But it all washes away when she nods, a small smile forming. "Yes," she says. "We'll have to wait until after the trial, but... I'd like to, if you want me to."

He kisses her, hard. Laura Roslin is moving into his cabin, and those are words he never thought he'd get to say out loud. All the bad things that have happened might be worth it (_no, he can't think that, that's a horrible, selfish thought, but frak it, he does think that, repeatedly_) if he can have her. If she stays with him. If she lets him love her.

But he has to go. Bill sighs, pulling himself upright. "You can stay here, if you want," he gruffs as he ungracefully stumbles out of the rack. Laura giggles, watching him, and he shoots her a mock-glare as he tries to remember where his clothing is. _The head, right._ He moves there, lathers up a washcloth, removes the evidence and scent of sex from his body and then pulls his uniform back on over sore muscles. When he emerges, ready to go, she's still in his rack, eyes closed. She opens them as he approaches, looking at him fondly.

Bill reaches down, cups her cheek, and kisses her one last time, gently. "I'll see you later."

"Have fun in CIC, Admiral," she says, a twinkle in her eye. He chuckles, leaves, spares one last look at the awe-inspiring sight of her in his rack before opening the hatch and heading back for his shift.


End file.
